


So There I Was

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Bondage, Consensual Somnophilia, Consensual Violence, Drugged Sex, Fluff, Fucking Machines, Kilts, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Multi, Oral Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper and Medic enjoy a few beers while the rest of RED has a bonfire outside the base, and swap sex stories, enjoying some comfortable conversation.  At least, until they're interrupted by a teammate with a much stormier romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So There I Was

“So there I am, yeh? Trussed up like a bleedin' turkey. Electrical wire 'round me wrists an' ankles, hog-tied. Truckie got me on some kinda lift, and behind me was some sort of machine he'd been workin' on. Couldn't see him and all.” Sniper made a vague spinning gesture with his beer bottle, as if it meant something as he spoke.

Medic nodded, eyebrow quirked, as he took a pull from his own beer. He made an affirmative sound, bidding Sniper to continue as he leaned back against the outer wall of the base.

The night air was warm and dry as soft winds rolled across the desert. Stars twinkled in the sky merrily, looking down on the RED base with enthusiasm. The team sat around outside. On chairs, on logs, on stones, or in Medic and Sniper's case, on the outer paddock of the base they'd taken for a porch. A few yards off, the rest of the team was scattered around a crackling bonfire Engineer had built in a hastily thrown-together stone firepit. The soft strumming of his guitar and a quiet, lilting song rolling from between the Texan's lips curled up into the sky, tangling with the smoke like desperate lovers as they drifted along the sands in the warm breeze.

Sniper set down his beer with a soft _tink_. “Turns out he'd been workin' on a big, overly complicated steely dan, and decided he'd try it out on me. Next thing I know he's got me stretched and prepped, the machine's big dildo end inside me. He grins that crooked grin 'a his and turns that bloody thing on and I didn't know where I was after that.” Sniper's eyes rolled back as he remembered, an edge creeping into the friendly smile he wore as he spoke. He drew his legs up a bit, and shifted his position against the wall. “He had that thing set up to ruin me in the best way possible. Just pounding into me over and over, and vibrating the whole time, too. It was overload. I couldn't support my jaw, couldn't struggle, couldn't do nothin' but lay there an' take it and babble and moan.” He thought a moment, before looking back to the doctor.

Medic was listening intently, taking slow, small sips from his beer for something to do with himself as Sniper regaled him with his story. A bit of a flush had crept into his cheeks; he'd hoped the warm darkness of the desert night was helping to hide that a bit. It happened often when they had these sort conversations however, so Medic had lost most sense of embarassment about his reactions. Sniper always seemed to have the dirtiest stories.

“Then Truckie's chuckling because I'm a mess, like he does, and comes around front. Starts fuckin' my mouth. No hellos, no how-do-ye-dos, just grabs my jaw, slides in, and holds the back of my head so I can't move even if I wanted to, half-choking me 'cause he was in to the hilt. I didn't last long. To be honest though, neither did he.” A grin exposed Sniper's sharp teeth to the distant fire light. “So that's why I showed up yesterday with those bruises on my hands and ankles. Didn't do too well for fightin' that day, either. If you need someone to blame for that one, Doc.” The lanky Australian chuckled and took another pull from his beer.

“It's amazing you even showed up at all, if that was how you spent your night before, Sniper,” Medic reasoned, with a chuckle.

“Yeh, well, would hardly be professional of me to call out sick on account of machine-assisted spit-roasting, now, would it?”

“It wouldn't be the first time one of us has. I do not know if you remember it, because it was relatively shortly after we were first hired, but the first time Heavy and I made love, the first time we had intercourse,” the doctor shivered a bit, “I would not leave mein room the next day. I was so sore. Poor Engineer had to work double-time with his dispensers in the fight that day.” He chuckled. “I was not mein first time I'd been with a man or anything, but Heavy, well, we have all showered with him.”

“Sure, Doc, but we're not all pecker checkers like yerself,” Sniper grinned around the mouth of his beer bottle, and recoiled as if Medic were about to swat at him.

Medic, for his part, just gave Sniper a withering look. “Do not think I did not hear the gossip about him when we first started working together. You've all looked.”

“Alright, you got me, Doc. Can't believe I've never asked you before, but: he a shower or a grower?”

“A grower,” the doctor replied, with a look almost harrowed. “Not by a huge amount, but enough. He is already intimidating flaccid, but mein Gott, he is the largest man I have ever been with. Our first time, I couldn't sit down the next day at all. I remember he was atop me, kissing me tenderly, nibbling my neck, and we were grinding against each other. He is intoxicating. Finally, I asked him to enter me, to fuck me. He stopped everything, and looked me in the eye and asked if I was sure. I answered him by trying to lick his tonsils.”

Sniper chuckled, his head rolling back to lean on the wall as he watched the doctor tell his story. Medic was animated, and a bit flushed, reliving the experience in his mind as he told it. The Australian could catch a whiff of his pheromones on the air, a fact he couldn't help but find amusing. For someone who seemed to be so aware of his own countenance, Medic was almost painfully transparent for those who knew how to look for it. Heavy had told him the same thing, once. It had helped the big Russian greatly in his endeavours to woo his Teutonic teammate.

“He was very, very gentle, but I was impatient. We were both so desperate, so needful. He filled me so perfectly. He went slow at first, showering my body in kisses, holding me close. He was so tender, so sweet. Soon he had me squirming beneath him, pounding into me like ein presslufthammer, howling his name. Such abandon; I wasn't as prepared as I'd thought. The next day, I laid in bed, unable to work. Heavy took me mein meals.”

“I remember that. Everyone'd pretty much figured out what happened, though. I was out in me van, but the others said they didn't get much sleep of their own that night, if you get me.” A small snicker snuck its way out of the Australian's nose.

Medic's eyes snapped wide open. “Are you serious? Why didn't anybody say anything?”

“Relax, Doc. Everyone pretty much saw it coming, so we all let it slide. Especially after we managed to pull out a victory that day, we were all in a good mood. Not to say the off-colour jokes didn't fly at dinner, and that poor Heavy didn't get a bit embarrassed. He was alright, though. We were just having fun. Demoman even congratulated him!”

With a sigh, Medic removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a small laugh shaking him. “And here I had been concerned back then that everyone would have judged us.”

“Bloody fruit shop, that's Reliable Excavation and Demolition!” Sniper raised his beer to the air in a mock toast, before taking a big swig, his companion following suit. “Yeh, you had nothing to worry about, Doc. So, you adjust to his size, or do the two of you just avoid anal with you bottoming?”

Medic choked a bit on his beer, and coughed. “You just have no tact, do you?”

“Should be used to that by now.”

“You have a point. But, ja, I have adjusted to mein Heavy's size. Turns out he awakened a part of me I hadn't been aware of. His size... it thrills me. Not just his schwanz, mind you, but his height, his width, his overall...” he rolled his wrist in the air, trying to work out an appropriate word in English, finally falling on, “bigness, I suppose.”

Sniper simply quirked an eyebrow in response.

“He is much larger than I am. Only a few inches in height, but I am a tall man. Having a man taller than me is in itself pleasant, plus he is far wider, and built broader than I am. I am not so thin as you, but I am certainly not even close to mein Heavy's body type. When he holds me, his big, strong arms envelop me, and when he and I are making love, he dwarfs me, eclipses me, makes me feel so small. And when he is inside me, he fills me so much I can barely handle it. Not only his size, but I think, large insertions, have sort of become a thing of mine. Toys are not nearly as fun, unless they approach or surpass mein Heavy. That feeling of being so full, it is a feeling almost like completeness. Not emotionally, well, being with Heavy does that. But I mean a physical completeness. It is hard to explain.”

“I follow ya.” The Australian took a thoughtful swig from his beer. “It's funny to see the bloke who does exploratory surgery as a hobby go all mushy and poetic at the mention of a giant Russian's giant bell-end. A size queen is what you are, you old slut,” Sniper chuckled.

“Says the man who engages in bondage and machine fetish with his parner.”

“Never said I wasn't a weirdo too.”

A short laugh flowed between the two, the smoke from the fire slithering over low, flicking up with the wind to tickle their noses. The scent of meat followed the smoke like a ghost, haunting it with a pleasant, savoury scent. A glance over revealed that Scout and Soldier were roasting hot dogs over the fire, the latter holding a pitchfork full of the things rather than the single stick his younger teammate bore. Spy could barely be heard, deriding the quality of the American sausages.

A loud thump and a sniffle broke Sniper and Medic out of their quiet reveries. They turned to their side to see Demoman had plunked himself down next to them, looking like a total wreck. His eye was puffy and red; his cheek shined with moisture in the firelight. He'd lost his knit cap somewhere, and his shirt somewhere else, his undershirt stained with tears and spilled whiskey. His bare shoulders heaved with his staggered breaths. “A bloody pair of shoes. Feckin' custom weapons. We killed each other, we hated each other, destroyed everythin'.” His words came out shaky, and thick with scrumpy. He took a drink from the half-full whiskey bottle in his hand.

Medic and Sniper shared a look. Demoman wasn't just drunk. He was often drunk. Especially in a fight, drink was his companion. But here, he was sloppy. He was weepy. He had slipped into that depth of drunkenness that brought with it self-loathing, and the need to let his woes pour out on anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot. They turned their attention back to their morose teammate.

“Demo, mate, you don't--”

“I could'a said somethin'. Could'a bloody called and tried 't talk it out. Could'a asked 'im why he said yes, what I could do to convince 'im otherwise. All for a pile of weapons. That stupid, bloody sword.” Demoman drained the rest of his bottle and threw it at a nearby wall, shattering the thing in a shower of glass. His jaw was set, and tears welled in the corner of his eye.

Medic sighed and put a hand on his teammate's shoulder. “Demoman, you cannot blame yourself. He was the one who said yes first. Miss Pauling at least gave you a chance to settle things. But you won't let them stay settled. You need to let go, mein freund. You and our Soldier have grown so close since. You at least have a friend to do all the same things with, ja?”

Demoman heaved a sigh and looked Medic dead in the eye. His jaw was trembling. “Not even close, Doc. Ye don't understand. We weren't just friends.” He wiped his eye on his forearm. “We were in love.”

The doctor nodded in understanding. It had been a theory around the base that things ran deeper between Demoman and the BLU Soldier than they seemed considering the ferocity with which their war was waged, but nobody had wanted to say anything. It didn't seem their place to.

“Guess you're not doing the same things with Soldier, then,” Sniper mumbled, taking a swig.

“Didn't say that either,” Demoman replied, a sad laugh puffing out of him.

The cracking and popping of the fire filled their ears where the silence refused to sit still. The light flared up as fresh logs caught ablaze, Pyro tending to the structure of the wood with expert care. Heavy's loud laugh boomed against the base, joined by Soldier and Scout in some rousing conversation.

Sniper reached over and flipped open the lid to the small cooler sitting next to him, and dug around inside. Pulling out a beer, he offered it to Demoman wordlessly.

The scotsman looked to the bottle, then to his teammate, and a small smile crossed his lips as he took it. “So what were you two lads talkin' about before I came and ruined yer evenin'?”

“Kinky sex,” the assassin replied with a shrug.

Medic made a snuffling, agonized sound as he accidentally snorted beer into his sinuses.

Demoman shared a laugh with Sniper at the doctor's expense, and popped the cap off of his beer. “Issat all? Then settle in, lads. I've got a few stories of me own. You wanna hear the weird stuff the soldiers are into?”

“I have the feeling we're going to find out anyway,” Medic muttered, wiping his nose on a handkerchief.

The bomber raised his beer, prompting the other two to follow suit. “Oh, you wouldn't believe. Cheers, mate.” They clinked their bottles together, and each took a drink. “Alright, so there I was...”


	2. So What Happened Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to “So There I Was", Demoman shares with Medic and Sniper the more interesting sexual proclivities of both teams’ Soldiers, both of whom he’s slept with on numerous occasions.

“Alright, so there I was, wearin' nothin' but me kilt, pinned beneath him.”

“Beneath whom?” Medic asked, leaning forward curiously. The light of the distant bonfire danced across his spectacles, his eager interest given a sinister edge. Around the fire, the team chattered noisily, Engineer's wheezy laughter ringing through the air, his guitar fallen silent. Settled on the paddock of the RED base, their makeshift porch, Medic, Sniper, and Demoman took turns swigging the beers in their hands, content to be away from the flames and tomfoolery.

“Yeh, I mean the BLU one,” Demoman replied, pointing to Medic as if his question had made some important declarative point. “Anyway, we'd been drinkin', and he starts in on me, callin' me a skirt-wearin' Englishman or some shite, goadin' me intae a fight. Now, we were best mates, but we fought like the day was long. A bit 'a fun.”

“Fun?” Sniper asked, frowning at his now-empty beer and setting it down, reaching to grab another from the cooler.

“A spot 'a rough housin' never hurt anyone, and it's good for a laugh. But with Ja--” Demoman stopped himself before using his former lover's real name in front of coworkers. “But with the BLU Soldier, he got a wee bit more out 'a it, if ye take me. We'd get in a scuffle, soon we're on the ground wrestlin', punchin', bitin', and eventually he's red-faced an' hard as granite, in spite of a black eye and a bloody nose. It'd end up with a different sort 'a bitin', then the only things wrestlin' are our tongues, 'an before we know it we're naked an' sweaty an' sometimes one 'a us has the other inside 'im.”

“Violence, eh? Can't say it's not an attractive thought,” Sniper mused, popping his new beer open. "Truckie looks a right picture when 'e's all bruised up from work."

“I'd rather keep mein violence at work,” Medic countered, shaking his head.

“A little biting and wrestling can be fun, though, Doc.” Sniper leered at Medic, making the older man's face redden.

“Ach, yes, well, continue, Demo.”

“Bloody right, I'm not done. So like I was sayin', he goads me inta a fight, and we're goin' at it, when he ends up on the floor, lookin' right up me kilt! He whistles and says he hasta respect Scottish ingenuity. Easy access on their men. I tug him up off the floor and ask if he wants to see how easy this access is. Instead, he asks if I have another kilt. 'Course I got another! So he asked me ta bring it next time we get together. Shagged like animals that night. Kept me kilt on, he sat me down and took advantage 'a that easy access with his head under it and swallowed me ta the hilt. You ken he's got no gag reflex? Says it's a sign of weakness or some such.

“So the next time we get together, he asks me about the kilt. I pull it out, and show him howta wear it. Always knew he had great legs, but in tartan, he was somethin' else. Begged me ta bend him over an' fuck him with it on, so who was I ta deny him? He came louder an' harder than I'd ever seen him. It ended up being our favourite thing. A spot 'a fightin', then a good hard shag with his kilt pulled up. Sometimes, if I was lucky, he'd be wearin' a pair 'a his--” Demoman stopped himself again, about to divulge more than was prudent about his former lover's fashion proclivities. “Ach, nevermind. Some things aren't for others ta ken.”

Medic's rosy cheeks had returned, bidden more easily by the alcohol in his system, biting his lip at the thought of the BLU Soldier, bent over and bracing himself against a wall, howling in ecstasy as Demoman took him roughly, kilts hiked up just enough for use. “That, that is a thought that will stay with me,” he mumbled.

Sniper nodded in agreement, smirking. “Never thought I'd peg that Soldier for a bottom.”

“They both are,” Demoman corrected, grinning wide now. “Our boy's a lot less eager to admit it, though. He's a lot more passive in bed, if ye can believe. Really passive.”

“What, does 'e just lay there like a cold fish?” Sniper asked, leaning his upper lip on the rim of his bottle.

“Sort of. He's inta bein' dominated, tied down, held down, restrained in some way. Says he's better when he's nae in control, helps him concentrate on what's happenin' ta him. But my favourite thing was his thing for sleep-shagging.”

“Sleep-shaggin'?”

“Aye, he takes medication ta sleep, says he can't calm down otherwise. Y'ken how he locks his door up tight at night and keeps sharp sleep and waking times? It's 'cause 'a that. He takes his pills, an' half an hour later, he's loopy, an' half an hour after, he's out. He likes ta get shagged when it starts ta kick in, when his body's all floppy an' boneless an' he can't do anything but lay there an' experience it. The closer he gets to sleep, the happier he is. He says he likes waking up sore and sticky and knowing his body satisfied someone, so even after he passed out, he still had me fuckin' away at him until I finished. Not goin' ta lie, at first I thought it was all sorts 'a barmy, but after a time, I started ta like it. A lot. He's layin' there, completely asleep, moanin' softly with everything I do ta him, and I can do anything I want ta him. He says so long as he wakes up unharmed, it's game. I've touched him everywhere. I've licked every inch 'a that man. It's a heady intoxicant, ta be sure."

"Amazing, he sedates himself then allows you unfettered access to his body? That is an immense amount of trust."

"I think it's more he trusts Respawn than me. And trusts he can murder me before I ken what's happenin' when he comes back," Demoman sniffed, taking a pull from his beer. "But shaggin' him when he's like that? It's a responsibility. He can't give me feedback, so I have ta be sure I'm careful with him. It's rather nice, actually. Rubbing up against him, wherever I want, shaggin' him at whatever pace I want to set. It's almost masturbatory."

"Crikey," Sniper adjusted his hat, looking over the rims of his sunglasses at his teammate. "Never would'a pinned 'im for that type."

"Would you have pinned him for a homosexual in the first place?" Medic asked.

"Got me there, mate."

"Of course, not many of us are exactly the models of stereotypical homosexuality, ja? Looking at mein Heavy, would you have imagined he loved the feel of mein schwanz in his mouth? Or at Engineer, would you have thought he would be inside you someday, Sniper?"

"I certainly wished, but didn't exactly expect, no."

"Not all 'a us can be as obvious as the Doctor here," Demoman laughed, falling back against the wall of the base.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were making eyes at Heavy the day you got here, Doc. Don't think none of us noticed."

"I was not!"

"Ye were, don't try an' deny it! Ye were lechin' on him the minute ye saw him."

"Can you blame me? Look at him! He is perfect!" Medic motioned over to Heavy, siting beside the bonfire. The big man looked over in time to see him gesturing, and smiled broadly, waving to his beloved doctor. Medic smiled back and raised his beer in response, then turned back to the conversation.

"Can't blame you at all, Doc," Sniper assured with a chuckle. "So you've never experimented with sedatives or anything? I'm surprised."

"Us? Ach, nein. We have tried some... other things, with the tools available to me in mein infirmary."  
  
"Not the scalpels, Doc."

"No not the scalpels. I don't take mein work home with me, no matter what jokes Scout makes. No, I am talking more about muscle relaxants, opiates, and the fascinating properties of the Kritzkrieg." The doctor grinned as he spoke.

"See, now ye have to tell us a story," Demoman demanded.

"Alright, alright. So what happened was..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by an anonymous Tumblr user


End file.
